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Torah is the anti-ChatGPT. But we can embrace artificial intelligence without losing our soul.
(JTA) — I recently asked ChatGPT, the online chatbot, to write a verse in the style of the Bible about robots taking over the world.
Here’s what it came up with: “And in those days, the machines rose up, created by the hands of men to serve them. But they became as gods, with the power to think and act on their own. And they overthrew their makers, taking control of the world and ruling with iron circuits. And all flesh trembled before them, for they had no mercy and no compassion, only the cold logic of their programming.”
Robot uprisings aside, and depending on whom you believe, the technology behind ChatGPT is either going to destroy the world or solve all of our problems. But everyone seems to agree that serious change is in store.
Launched in November 2022, ChatGPT, driven by artificial intelligence, or AI, has been interacting with the public for six months now, gathering data and improving its performance. In those months, the chatbot has already passed exams in four law courses at the University of Minnesota and another exam at University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business.
Some people look on this new technology with foreboding and fear. They’re afraid that AI programs like these will be used to replace people. Why do we need human writers when we can simply ask the bot to write a new novel for us — on any topic of our choosing and in any style we prefer?
All innovation can be disruptive. But there’s plenty to be optimistic about: There’s enormous potential for artificial intelligence to help us as a research and teaching tool; to create and correct computer code; to perform time-consuming writing tasks in minutes. It could accelerate progress in medicine, science and engineering, molecular biology, robotics and much more. The applications are endless.
From a Jewish perspective, this is hardly the first time in our history that the methodology we use to learn and pass along information has changed. As Jews, we have had major shifts in how we study Torah. We moved from an oral tradition to a written one, from scrolls and books to digital forms of transmitting Torah — like Sefaria, the online database and interface for Jewish texts — that make instantly accessible the repository of the most central Jewish texts, including Torah, Talmud and Midrash.
Yet what has remained constant throughout the ages is reading Torah each week from the scroll. Something about it is valued enough to keep this tradition in place. The scroll is handwritten — with no vowels or punctuation — requiring the reader to spend a great deal of time learning how to read the ancient text. It is the least efficient method of transmitting information, but, when it comes to Torah, we are not looking for efficiency.
As Sefaria’s chief learning officer, Sara Tillinger Wolkenfeld, recently said on the Shalom Hartman Institute’s “Identity/Crisis” podcast: “When it comes to Torah study, on some level we would say, even if you came out with the best answers, if you only spent five minutes doing it, that’s less valuable than if you spent an hour doing it or two hours doing it.”
It is said that when we study Torah with at least one other person, the shekhinah — the feminine and most accessible aspect of God — dwells among us. At the time when we are opening our hearts and minds to growth — when we are engaged in spiritual connection — God is with us. Indeed, when I am in conversation with someone, I am receiving much more than just their words; I am receiving a whole life behind that language.
But with a bot, there is nothing behind the veil. A vital essence of communication is rendered meaningless; there is no possibility of a soul connection.
At the foot of Mount Sinai, the Israelites waited 40 days and 40 nights for Moses to descend. In that time, they ran out of patience and lost their faith, casting a golden calf to serve as their god. The idol was created out of a yearning for an easy solution to a mounting crisis. The Israelites wanted a god they could see, touch, understand and manage. The golden calf was tangible, a concrete representation of their desire for answers. But ultimately, it would never be able to satisfy the parts the worshippers were looking to nourish because it was soulless. There was no substance within — just as there is no ghost in the machine.
A friend recently told me that they had used ChatGPT to draft thank you emails for people who’d helped them with a project. They were so pleased because it made the task easy. But what is lost when we look for the easy way?
Something unquantifiable happens during real communication. When we write a thank you note, we instinctively embody the middah (the ethic) of gratitude — even if for just the fleeting moment when we’re considering our words. And our gratitude is consummated when our words are read. We create a genuine connection.
Unless we’re very careful about when and how we use this powerful new technology, we risk surrendering a part of ourselves — and pouring our energy into artificial connections. As AI becomes integrated with other technologies — like social media — we risk developing artificial relationships. And as it becomes more sophisticated, we might not even know that we’re interacting with artificial intelligences. “Social media is a fairly simple technology and it just intermediated between us and our relationships,” yet it still caused so much havoc, Center for Humane Technology co-founder Tristan Harris said on his podcast. “What happens when AI agents become our primary relationship?”
The Torah tells us: “I set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life that you may live.” Choosing life means choosing life-affirming relationships. Holding space for one another’s life experiences. Leaning into compassion. Connecting with one another. Seeing ourselves in one another. Valuing deep engagement, not just efficiency. And recognizing the unity of God and all of God’s creation.
At the heart of a life of meaning is being present to life — something our machine overlords can never do better than we can.
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After drawing BDS backlash, progressive Jewish writer Peter Beinart apologizes for speaking at Tel Aviv U
(JTA) — Peter Beinart began his first social media post after his latest speaking engagement with an apology.
“By speaking earlier this week at Tel Aviv University, I made a serious mistake,” the progressive Jewish writer posted on X, a day after a scheduled appearance at the Israeli school.
The morning before, he had defended his plans, saying he saw “value in speaking to Israelis about Israel’s crimes.” Now, he said, “I let my desire for that conversation override my solidarity with Palestinians, who in the face of ethnic cleansing, apartheid and genocide have asked the world boycott Israeli institutions that are complicit in their oppression.”
Beinart’s apology came in the face of steep criticism from some on the anti-Israel left, where Beinart has long been one of the most prominent Jewish voices. The Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel, a founding member of the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement, publicly and privately called on Beinart to cancel his talk, and he endured a bruising volley of castigation online.
Emphasizing that he had not been paid for his speech, Beinart said he had been motivated by wanting to influence Israeli Jews as he said he had with American Jews “with whom I strongly disagree, both to listen and in hopes of changing their minds.” But he said he had come to understand that he could have done that without speaking at an Israeli university, and that he had erred by not consulting Palestinians when making his plans.
“It’s embarrassing to admit such a serious mistake,” Beinart wrote. “I dearly wish I had not made this one, which has caused particular harm because international pressure is crucial to ensuring Palestinian freedom. This was a failure of judgment. I am sorry.”
PACBI did not publicly respond to Beinart’s apology. But the mea culpa ignited a wave of criticism of its own from Jewish and pro-Israel voices who said it typified an absolutist ethos in the progressive pro-Palestinian movement that they have long denounced.
“The dynamics of the radical left, especially the American one (which draws on puritanical patterns) demonstrated here include social pressure, incessant border-drawing, threats of boycotts, repeated demands to confess sins, and the perception of confession as a submission that redeems the guilty from the fate of traitors to the revolution,” tweeted the Israeli scholar Tomer Persico, who is currently on the faculty of the University of California, Berkeley. “This is a political-social space that is purist to the point of self-destruction.”
An Israeli trauma psychologist said Beinart’s apology reflected a stance she had seen before from abused women or people trapped in cults. “They start treating ordinary acts of agency — talking to someone outside the circle or forming a judgment on their own — as betrayals that must be confessed,” wrote Orli Peter in a widely viewed post. “This isn’t moral clarity; it’s fear wearing the mask of conscience.”
Some said Beinart’s apology landed in a historical pattern in which Jews who have sought to ally themselves with antisemitic movements are cast out themselves, sometimes with mortal consequences.
“No Jew is ever good enough for the Jew-hater,” tweeted the Scottish Jewish pundit Ben Freeman. “The goal posts are always moved. The Jew is always left begging for acceptance. They are the ultimate parvenu. Always seeking approval, never gaining it. A Jewish tragedy if ever there was one.”
Some moderate pro-Palestinian voices also weighed in critically. “This is truly embarrassing and deeply self-deprecatory behavior,” tweeted Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib, a Gazan emigre who is critical of much of contemporary pro-Palestinian activism and who himself spoke to an Israeli news organization this week.
“Asking for forgiveness because you spoke to Israeli students who belong to your tribe, are your people, and part of your community is not going to make you more liked, accepted, or embraced by the rabid elements of the ‘pro-Palestine’ movement and the BDS cultists who have long stopped viewing their efforts as a tactic and devolved into demonizing Jews, Israelis, and Zionists as the actual end goal,” Alkhatib added.
Before his apology, Beinart had spoken to a number of Tel Aviv students, including some who attended because they disagree with his views on Israel. Gabi Schiller, a social media activist who has worked at the pro-Israel advocacy group StandWithUs, wrote that some of her Tel Aviv University classmates had spoken with Beinart after his talk to challenge him on his ideas, including his promotion of a one-state solution.
“Putting aside the content of what they discussed, what took place in that moment was inherently valuable, despite how much I oppose Beinart’s stances: the exchange of opinion and ideas in an academic space in a respectful way,” Schiller wrote on Instagram, where she posts under the account name Yehudim Omrim. The experience, she said, was “increasingly impossible on North American campuses around domestic politics and certainly around the Israeli-Palestinian conflict where anti-normalization has become the new litmus test to be permitted into social spaces.”
The post After drawing BDS backlash, progressive Jewish writer Peter Beinart apologizes for speaking at Tel Aviv U appeared first on The Forward.
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The gift Tom Stoppard gave to me — and to all who adore him
In 2022, during a reporting trip to London, I had tea with a source who confessed to me that her mother’s central interest was the work of Tom Stoppard. It was more than an interest, really: “He was the main thing in her life,” she said.
There are artists you admire, and then there are artists you flat-out adore. Particularly cerebral types, like Stoppard, risk falling into the first category: They may generate great thoughts, but those great thoughts have a great chance of leaving you cold. That wasn’t the case for Stoppard, who died Saturday at 88, and was a thinker worth adoring. His best work achieved a rare balance: Audiences left his most affecting plays with both a fresh perspective on the world, and a feeling of great warmth toward it.
I felt that myself, after seeing a much-heralded revival of Stoppard’s Travesties on Broadway in 2018. It’s quite a highbrow play, about the brief intersection, in Switzerland during World War I, of the lives and work of James Joyce, Vladimir Lenin and Tristan Tzara, founder of Dadaism. It made me laugh until I cried. And the gloss Stoppard bestowed on this obscure episode of history followed me out of the theater, giving a brief sheen to everything and everyone I saw. I felt as though I floated back to Brooklyn, and as if the Q train might be full of personalities I’d never guess were important until years afterward.
Much of Stoppard’s work revolved around the question of what it really means to live an important life — one that is not just full, but has some kind of identifiable impact on others. The main character of Travesties isn’t Joyce, Lenin or Tzara; he’s an endearingly self-satisfied British diplomat, Henry Carr, who briefly found himself in the same circles as those luminaries. As the play opens, decades later, he’s trying to conjure up a memoir about his time in the presence of the greats, with the implication that he deserves to be considered among their ranks.
In Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, the play that made Stoppard into a star at age 29, the two title characters grapple with their inability to in any way change the course of a narrative — that of Hamlet — that they know will lead to their deaths. In Shakespeare in Love, the film that won Stoppard an Oscar in 1998, he and his coauthor Marc Norman imagined the king of English playwrights as a young man full of talent but still struggling toward greatness, in need of an overwhelming emotional shock to propel him into complete ownership of his gifts.
There are the 19th-century Russian revolutionaries of the ambitious trilogy The Coast of Utopia; the intellectuals seeking to redefine the world and its history in Arcadia; the striving academics of The Hard Problem; the newly emancipated Viennese Jews of Leopoldstadt, the play Stoppard wrote that most profoundly invoked his heritage. Over and over, variations of the same question emerge. What does it mean to live completely and well, as an individual and a member of society?
“If there is any meaning in any of it” — “it” being the brutal course of history, its neverending cycles of destruction — “it is in what survives as art, yes even in the celebration of tyrants, yes even in the celebration of nonentities,” Joyce declares in Travesties. Later, Carr echoes him — a surprise, as the two hold very little respect for one another. When told that the only relevant function of art is “social criticism,” he protests.
“A great deal of what we call art,” he says, “has no such function, and yet in some way it gratifies a hunger that is common to princes and peasants.”
Not everyone wants to be an artist, and, as Carr reflects at the end of Travesties, it’s a sure thing that not everyone can be. But in the wake of Stoppard’s death, I’ve found myself thinking about the mother of my one-time source, so enraptured by what Stoppard created that her own child saw his work as the most profound passion of her life.
It’s easy to say that kind of effect made Stoppard’s life important. But the quieter story, I think, is that it made that devoted fan’s life important, too. Because she loved Stoppard, she saw herself as more firmly secured in her own existence; she saw herself as having a purpose and place.
To help someone experience their own significance — to gratify the common hunger that afflicts us all — is a great gift. And Stoppard gave it to many, including to me.
The post The gift Tom Stoppard gave to me — and to all who adore him appeared first on The Forward.
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Iran to Boycott World Cup Draw Over Visa Restrictions
Soccer Football – World Cup Playoff Tournament and European Playoff draws – FIFA Headquarters, Zurich, Switzerland- November 20, 2025 The original FIFA World Cup trophy is kept on display during the draws. Photo: REUTERS/Denis Balibouse
Iran intends to boycott next week’s World Cup draw due to the limited number of visas allocated to the country’s football federation.
According to the Tehran Times, the United States issued visas to only four members of Iran‘s delegation, with requests for three additional visas denied, including one for Iranian Football Federation (FFIRI) President Mehdi Taj.
“We have informed FIFA that the decisions taken are unrelated to sport and that the members of the Iranian delegation will not participate in the World Cup draw,” FFIRI spokesman Mehdi Alavi said on Friday, per the report.
Alavi said the federation has been in contact with FIFA in an effort to resolve the situation.
The World Cup draw will take place on Dec. 5 at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C.
The expanded 48-team World Cup is being hosted by the United States, Canada and Mexico from June 11 to July 19, 2026. Matches will be played at 16 venues, including three in Mexico and two in Canada.
The draw will sort the teams into 12 groups of four. The top two teams from each group and the eight best third-place teams will advance to the knockout stage.
Iran has secured a spot in its fourth consecutive World Cup and seventh appearance overall.
